"Gladys confided to me she would be a little afraid of going back, though she knows that Anna is no longer there. But she says she will feel as if they were going back to _stay_ there, and as if _this_ would turn out to be only a beautiful dream."
"And she's going to take her new doll--both to show her off, and that she may feel _she_ isn't a dream! She has such funny ideas sometimes. Auntie----"
"If Walter can't find the father--I suppose I should say if he is dead--what is to be done?"
"We must find out all we can--through that Miss Susan, I suppose--as to who are the children's guardians, and what money they have, and all about it."
"I wish we could adopt them," said Rosamond. "We're rich enough."
"Yes; but that is not the only question. You are almost sure to marry."
"I don't know that," said Rosamond, but her face flushed a little.
"Oh, Auntie! Walter! Why he's only eighteen."
"Well, all the same, time goes on, and adopting children often causes complications. Besides, it is not likely that they have _no_ relations."
"Well, we shall see what the next letter says," said Rosamond.
It was not a letter after all, but a telegram, and this was what it said:--
"Found Bertram. Will explain all. Returning to-morrow."
"He might have said a little more," said the latter. "This is only enough to rouse our curiosity."
"We must say nothing to the children yet," decided Auntie.
"I do hope, as he is alive," said Rosamond, "that he's a nice good sort of man. If he weren't, that would be worse than anything--having to give up the children to him," and she looked quite unhappy.
"Don't let your imagination run away with you so, my dear child," said Auntie. "It's very unlikely that he's not nice in every way. Remember what Gladys says of his kind letters, and how fond Mrs. Lacy was of him, and how she always taught them to look forward to his return. No; _my_ fears are about his health, poor fellow."
The children went the next morning with Rosamond and her maid to see Madame Nestor, and Rosamond brought back with her to show her aunt a letter Madame Nestor had just received, which threw a little light on one part of the subject. It was from Léonie telling of Mr. and Mrs. Marton's arrival at their destination, and alluding to the children as if she had no doubt that they had only been left two or three days at the Rue Verte. "Monsieur," meaning Mr. Marton, "was so glad," she wrote, "to find at Marseilles that the children's Papa was going on to Paris almost at once. He had left a letter for Captain Bertram at the hotel, as he had gone to Nice for a day or two; and Madame had only just had time to write to the ladies in England to tell how it had all been. And she was writing by this mail to ask for news of the "dear little things," as she called Gladys and Roger. They had thought of them all the way, and Madame thanked Madame Nestor so much for her kindness. She--Léonie--hoped very much she would see them again some day. Then she presented her compliments to her cousin Adolphe, and promised to write again soon--and that was all."